


The Boy Who Painted the Blue

by Hitsugi_Zirkus



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Tumblr: makoharufestival, blue & green
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1234558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitsugi_Zirkus/pseuds/Hitsugi_Zirkus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love was thought to be red. Makoto didn’t think that was the case though. Without a doubt, Haruka’s touch had sprouted soft forget-me-nots and morning glories instead of roses and tulips inside his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Who Painted the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hajimemashite, Free!dom. I'm Hitsugi and this is the first fanfiction I've written for this fandom. I'm pleased to say it is for Makoto and Haruka. These two have quickly taken over my life, so I'm hoping to write about them for a long time *laughs* Please regard me kindly, and I hope you enjoy! *bows*
> 
> Originally posted for the makoharu festival on tumblr. Now that this year's festival has ended, I'm uploading all my entries.
> 
> Beta'd by loserfacesswimception on tumblr.

Water was essentially without color. Only the light that penetrated its depths, no matter how shallow, painted it. The first time Makoto saw Haruka swim, he was fairly confident that it was him who painted the oceans blue, like he was some ethereal creature, a child of the water. As long as Haruka kept painting the oceans, then even the skies would be blue on rainy days.

Makoto couldn’t believe how mesmerized he was by Haruka’s movements to think such things. He didn’t know he was that poetic. Watching Haruka swim though put that poetry in him. Makoto was captivated by it. He was sure the admiration was there on his face every time he pulled his best friend out of the water - he never could hide his emotions well, no matter how much he smiled. That he could see on _Haruka_ ’s face. But he was very sure Haruka was the reason he smiled so much. He stood up for hours a night just thinking about him. His imagination never strayed, perfectly content thinking of how happy it made his best friend to swim, and of Haruka’s eyes, the beautiful blue hue he painted the water in.

Love was thought to be red: reds and pinks, every flushed hue of a blushing face and even bleeding hearts. Makoto didn’t think that was the case though. Without a doubt, Haruka’s touch had sprouted soft forget-me-nots and morning glories instead of roses and tulips inside his heart. It wasn’t the beginnings of spring stirring in his stomach, but the bright summer rays shining down on rolling blue waves. All Haruka ever had to do was look at him with those eyes and Makoto’s world became submerged in his oceans, the only depths he never feared.

"Get the blue one."

Haruka’s back straightened, obviously not aware Makoto was right behind him. Makoto smiled, trying not to laugh. They were out shopping on Makoto’s suggestion, both of them finally having some spending money after their New Year’s allowances. The winter was unusually cold, and Makoto was worried about how bundled up Haruka was, using spare gloves or a coat Makoto would have when the winds were stirring up too much.

A few scarves were hung up, some fluffier than others, some more for fashion than warmth. Haruka overlooked those, always simple and wanting something practical. He stared back and forth between a solid blue one and purple one, looking indecisive before Makoto made his suggestion.

Haruka pulled down the blue one, still seeming unsure. “Why do you think?”

“Haruka’s suited for the color blue,” that was what Makoto thought. He said it out loud too. When he got slightly raised brows in response, Makoto waved his hands dismissively. “Ah, it’s just… I know Haru-chan wears different colors, but I always thought blue was best. It’s good. On you. It’s looks good on you. It’s Haru-chan’s color,” he said in a babble, cheeks feeling warm with every second more Haruka stared at him.

Makoto continued to mentally tie up whatever part of him that made him say that lame stuff as Haruka finally hummed and put the scarf over his arm. He barely noticed when his best friend went practically on tip-toe to reach something another shelf up. Only when Haruka’s back pressed against his chest did he even realize how close he had been standing behind him.

“Huh? Did you get something else?”

Haruka nodded, “But not for me.” He held out a scarf to Makoto. It was made from the same material and style as Haruka’s, with little knotted ends hanging off of it. The one offered to him though was a beautiful forest green, like the softest of grass to lay in. Makoto stared at it, surprised.

"Is this for me?" At Haruka’s nod, Makoto plucked it off his hands and smiled a bit. "Thanks, but what for?”

"Your scarf is getting holes in it," Haruka said disapprovingly, narrowing his eyes. "That’s what you get for letting the cats play with it. You need a new one.”

Makoto’s face felt warm again, except maybe thrice over because the gesture meant Haruka was thinking about him. It felt like his heart was blooming with even more of Haruka’s blue flowers. He smiled, feeling embarrassed. “Ah, in that case, thank you for thinking of me!” As the two made their way to the check-out counter, he asked, “Was there a reason for this one, though? It was on the next shelf. I would’ve been fine with anything.”

Without looking at him - maybe even staring at the scarf on his arm instead - Haruka explained, “You said blue suits me. I think if we’re doing that, then green is what suits Makoto best.”

"Aah?" It wasn’t that Haruka was self-absorbed, but more that he didn’t express himself outwardly and was very impulsive. Gestures like offering the scarf, and having a reason behind it, surprised Makoto, but it also made overflowing warmth radiate inside him. Putting their scarves on the counter, he laughed a bit. “I never thought about it. Ah, it’s because of my eyes, isn’t it? I remember my mother saying something like that a few times.”

Haruka shook his head. “That’s not it. Makoto isn’t ‘blue’ like the ocean. But I think if it’s you, then being ‘green’ is okay.”

"Huh?"

The cashier rang up their total and the two paid for the scarves before walking out. They had agreed on eating at a family restaurant before catching the train home. Seeing that Haruka was in no hurry to explain what he said before (and certainly it was possible he had even forgotten the whole thing by that point), Makoto thought over his best friend’s words. He didn’t know why Haruka would say something like that, like he was labeling Makoto as a color itself. How was green special for him? He could only think of his mother’s explanation about it matching his eyes. Green wasn’t even his favorite color - no, that was more of…

He took a glance at Haruka. “Hey Haru, what’s your favorite color?” He never gave the thought a chance, mostly because he knew Haruka didn’t. His best friend concerned his interests with little else other than water and swimming.

Haruka stared at Makoto, actually seeming to contemplate it. Finally, he tilted his head. “What color is the water?” he asked, completely serious.

Makoto had to keep from laughing over such an answer that was so Haruka. “Water doesn’t have a color, Haru,” he said, trying to lessen his smile when Haruka narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yes, it does. It’s blue."

"Ah, but Haru, that’s only because of the things with light. It’s the hue that penetrates the seas and oceans until it gets black with no light. So that’s it then? You like blue?”

But Haruka didn’t seem to be listening to Makoto. A frown creased his forehead, and Makoto continued to look at him curiously, waiting for an explanation. "The water is blue. But sometimes, the ocean… It looks a little green too, doesn’t it?" Haruka said. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and Makoto turned back to stare at him. Haruka wasn’t looking at him though, summer-blue eyes downcast as his body, a little smaller than Makoto’s, shivered. The wind had picked up.

Makoto went over and pulled the new scarf out of Haruka’s bag, tearing off the price tag before wrapping it around his best friend, snugly enough to make sure Haruka was warm. “There we go. Come on, let’s go to the restaurant. We can get some hot chocolates.”

"Makoto." Haruka’s voice, naturally deep from years of speaking in low tones, and always managing to catch Makoto’s attention from the slightest sigh, demanded Makoto’s hands to freeze right over Haruka’s chest, where he had been patting the scarf down.

"Something wrong?" He blinked.

Haruka reached for Makoto’s bag as well, his movements languid and without hurry. In his action, Makoto’s hands slid down Haruka’s chest, and Makoto relished the feeling of Haruka’s solidness and warmth even beneath the layers of coat and long-sleeved shirts, even with his gloves that his friend had borrowed on more than one occasion.

The new warmth around his neck alerted Makoto of his own scarf being put on. Haruka tossed the scarf around Makoto just once, holding on to both ends loosely. “Sometimes the water is blue. But sometimes it’s green. When it’s like that, I can’t help but think of Makoto.”

That gave Makoto pause. Within those simple sentences that would make no sense or even seem childish to another, Makoto sensed a whole wave of words behind Haruka’s detached reasoning. Smiling, he thanked Haruka. His friend hummed, cheeks an obvious pink. Whether or not it was from the cold, Makoto knew Haruka had reached his limit in explaining himself in words.

Linking their hands together, Makoto thought it more than enough. And Haruka didn’t have to hold on tighter (he had already said enough in Makoto’s opinion) but Haruka did and Makoto’s heart was bursting in happiness.

Makoto always thought of himself as too simple, someone without a color. But if Haruka could keep painting the skies blue, well, Makoto had no problem dyeing Haruka’s heart that safe, gentle green.


End file.
